


I Couldn't Think of a Clever Title

by triangular



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: F/M, i got carried away, there's a handy-j but that's as explicit as it gets, this was supposed to be good but oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 09:45:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2503364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triangular/pseuds/triangular
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uh. Stuff. Dicking around. Pretty lame but it was kinda fun. At the time.<br/>Imported from my tumblr, so, there's that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Couldn't Think of a Clever Title

It was during the summer when _it_ happened.

Nothing was going your way and adult misfortune was taking its toll, so you forced yourself to take a roadtrip around America to refresh yourself.

So far, everything was great, and you already felt like a new person.

Then you arrived in Oregon. More specifically, Gravity Falls.

At first glance, it was just another place with a hokey tourist trap. But you kept seeing things move around in the forest that weren't shaped like any animal you'd seen before.

Of course, you reasoned it was just special effects they'd put up for the sake of tourism, and took the benefit of the doubt.

The tourist trap itself, the Mystery Shack, was decent. Not as spectacular as the Ripley's you visited in another city, but still endearing with the effort put in (though the owner was definitely a shifty character).

Afterwards, you walked over to a nearby diner—you were trying to use the gas sparingly, what with the prices—and had a bit of food and coffee. The waitress was something in herself, but you tried not to stare.

Eventually, you walked back to the Shack, where you left your car, and that was where things got interesting.

Really, it would've been better if you hadn't heard that commotion, if you hadn't seen that man get physically kicked out, if you hadn't noticed the damage done to him, and especially if you hadn't left your car to help him.

But of course, you did.

You had him sit on the hood of your car as you fished a cold soda can out of the cooler in your trunk. It struck you as strange that he was less concerned with his bloody nose and bruises than he was with being helped by someone, and whatever plan he was muttering to himself about.

“Here,” you said, tossing him the can, “put this on your nose, doesn't look like it's broken, but just in case.”

Though he ungratefully rolled his eyes, he complied.

“I don't know what you did to piss off that guy,” you said, grabbing a tissue out of your bag for his the blood, “But you could at least be a little concerned about the number he did on you and maybe, oh, I dunno, appreciate the help you're getting.”

The tan man grew upset when you tried cleaning the blood off, snapping, “I didn't ask for your help.”

“Yeah, well, you're getting it anyway, pal,” you insisted, scrubbing clean the trail that dripped down to his small blonde goatee, “I could use the good karma, and you could use some manners.”

“Fuh, _karma_ ,” he pushed your away your arm, “And something like me doesn't require manners.”

“Look, I know it's old-fashioned, but don't act like you're above it,” you said, tossing away the bloody wad of tissue.

“Excuse you! I am an all-powerful entity above any of these human regularities,” he hissed, slamming his hands on the hood with sparks in his bright blue eyes.

“Oookay, firstly, don't dent my car,” you nagged, lifting away his arms (and of course, the can left a small indentation), “And secondly, I think you got a bit of a blow to the head, you sure you're okay?”

The man growled, “I swear to myself, if that Pine Tree hadn't sealed my powers, I would've smote that family and you'd see!”

“Right, a tree took away your magic, sure,” you frowned, now wondering if he was just the town nutjob. “I think you need to lay down, I'll drive you to your house.”

“Don't have one.”

Great. You're talking to a crazy hobo. Though his well-kept hair and nice clothes threw you off. He must've stole them.

“You're...not going to mug me, are you?”

“What? How would I even do that, I don't have a mug, let alone one big enough to fit you.”

You would've hit him if it weren't a little funny. “Well, that's good to know. But I don't live here, so I can't exactly help you out much more, guy.”

“Bill. Bill Cipher.”

“Okay, Bill. I've got to get leaving soon, I only took so much time off my job, and I have a schedule to stick to, places to go, things to see. Any place I can safely drop you off? Hospital? Police station?”

“Lame,” he panned, rolling up the sleeves of his yellow dress shirt to check his arms. “How about the junkyard? Got a friend there.”  
“Uh, sure,” you said, awkwardly stepping back to your driver's door. “Hop in and just tell me the directions.”

You drove around for a good few minutes after he sent you in circles, but eventually you found the spot.

He clicked off his seatbelt (for a nutty homeless guy, he was pretty concerned about road safety) and hopped out of the car. You did the same, insisting it was courtesy to walk him to his friend, but you were more interesting in walking around a junkyard, it wasn't something you normally got to do.

In fact, you were so distracted by each thing poking out of the heaps of trash that you hadn't noticed Bill vanished, and you were barely able to stop yourself from bumping into a short, hunched man you didn't see.

“Ah, sorry, didn't see you there.”

“'Sorry'?” the man said, turning around, “No, my name's McGucket! Howdy,” he said, grabbing your hand and fervently shaking it.  
This man fit the “loco hobo” description much better, with his bug-eyes, ratty clothes, and broad grin, more than a few teeth missing.

“Okay, McGucket, uh, brought your friend, he—” you looked around, “He was here a minute ago.”

“Don't worry, missy! Those people disappear on me all the time, too! Heck, half of 'em are invisible!”

“Right,” you croaked, slowly stepping backwards, “Er, well, he should be around here somewhere, hopefully you bump into him!”  
You turned and began speedwalking away, skeeved out.

Behind you, the old man called out behind you, “Y'should worry more about you bumping into him!”

It didn't make sense, not that you expected him to. You just started your car and sped off to your next location, glad to be out of that town.

It wasn't until you hit the interstate that you realized you'd been driving in silence, too caught up thinking about that weird Bill guy. So, as usual, you flipped on the radio and a familiar song was playing.

The humming you made along with the song's tune burst into singing with the chorus, and a voice behind you groaned, “Oh God, spare me!”

Your arms jerked and drove the car off to the side of the road, and you flipped around, face devoid of all color, to see that blonde man's face staring at you.

It took every bit of strength you had to not start hyperventilating, but your voice went hoarse.

“Why-are-you—” your voice shrunk even smaller, “You're going to kill me, aren't you?”

“What?” He looked at you as if you were the crazy one. “No, if I wanted to, you'd already be dead.”

Your heart almost gave out. He wouldn't know tact if he stepped on it.

“Nah, I just figured it'd be fun to follow you around, going to new places and all,” he shrugged nonchalantly, crossing his legs.

The color was beginning to return to your face. “Get out,” you snapped.

“Why?”

“ _Why?!_ Because you almost gave me a fucking heart attack, you piece of shit!”

“Yeesh, calm down, I'm just playin' around.”

“ _CALM DOWN? I COULD'VE FUCKING DIED!_ ”

“You make it sound like a bad thing,” he whispered under his breath. “Fine, I'll go, but then you'll have to live with knowing you left a poor, damaged ol' soul out to die on the road instead of letting him tag along your boring, lonely trip. Gosh, so much for that karma, eh?”

You bit your lip. Jackass or not, you knew he had a point. Maybe it was out of the kindred spirit of vacation, but you were feeling a little generous.

“I...I'll let you tag along. For one state, then I'm taking you back to that weird town. But you need to sit up here, I don't know how much I can trust you in the backseat.”

He beamed and, unbuckling himself, clambered over into the seat next to you, settling himself in.

You glared at him, wondering if you'd come to regret this, and he gave a shining, toothy grin in return.

“C'mon, let's go! I wanna see stuff. Where are we going?”

“Uh, Idaho,” you said, slowly reentering the highway. “Y'know, the potato place. Dunno what else they have.”

“Man, that's so passe,” he pouted, putting his feet up on the dash, “Why can't we go to that place full of hippies and smog? Or the one composed of immorality and one-night-stands?”

“Because I already came from that way, and because...I wanted to take a photo in front of the giant potato.”

“Woah, giant potato? That changes it, we're going.”

You wanted to remind him you were in charge, but decided to ignore him and focus on driving.

Which became incredibly difficult when he started toying with the radio. Flipping around to terrible music, blaring out the speakers, it was painful. You slapped his hand and shut the radio off.

“We're just...gonna drive in silence if you're gonna be an idiot.”

“Tch, you know, I can just start singing my own music, right?”

“Touche. Just pick one of my CDs then. And don't make my eardrums explode,” you asserted, pointing him to the glovebox.  
He popped it open and curiously shifted through the discs, and gasping when he pulled out one of them. “You got Queen's greatest hits?!”

“Uh-huh, they're a good band.”

“ _Good_ band? My favorite, more like. Went to that Montreal concert in '81. Man, that was somethin'.”

You confusedly glanced at him. He only looked to be around his late twenties, and, though math wasn't your thing, you knew that didn't add up.

But, very little about that man added up, so you pushed it to the back of your mind as he loaded in the music.

The long rest of the ride went much faster than you thought, mostly consisting of you trying not to laugh as he terribly sung along to each and every song, replaying them time and time again and occasionally grabbing some snacks you stuffed in the console.

Joyously, you pulled up to a parking spot in Blackfoot and stopped the car. “We're here,” you declared, shutting off the car and, therefore, the radio.

“It was just getting good,” he pouted.

“That was the fourth time you played that one, I'm sure you know how it goes,” you chuckled. “Besides, like I said, we're here.”

He perked up and shuffled out of the car, you doing the same. However, he was much more disappointed when he read the sign.  
“This is a museum? For potatoes? That's so boring.”

“Yeah, but look, it's a huge potato!” You cheesily gushed, a very large, very fake baked potato sitting outside.

“It's...not even real.”

“I-I know that! It's just...cool, isn't it?” Your smile weakened, suddenly realizing this was much less cool that it was in your head.

“No,” he remarked flatly. “You can take your picture, but I'm not going into a museum...for _potatoes_.”

“I...you didn't have to come! Besides, I'm sure it's really cool inside!”

He gave you a dull look, his arms folded impatiently.

“Fine, maybe it isn't. Just...shut up. Lemme take my selfie.”

“Whaaatever,” he said, walking off.

You stood far enough in front of the fake-tato for you and it to fit in the frame and snapped a photo on your phone.

“Okay, I'm good. Let's head out.”

“Thank God,” Bill rolled his eyes, walking to the car. “Even the air smells like potatoes,” he complained before shutting himself in the car.

You checked the photo as you paced back, noticing he was in it, too, making an all-too-amused face at you from the background.

It was cute, you thought. Not him, of course, that beaten-up brat, just the picture. Though it definitely needed a filter.

Sliding in and starting up the car again, you reminded him, “We're pretty much done here, you know, so I'm taking you back.”

“Wait, what?! But this wasn't even fun! All you did was take a picture of a damn fake tuber!”

“Oh, I know,” you said with a wicked grin, pulling out of the lot and onto the road, “Sucks for you, don't it?”

“C'mon, my life's gonna be boring for a while thanks to that Pine Tree, so can you at least just help me out?”

Was he really still on that tree thing? “I don't know, I recall someone being very pissy the last time I tried to be helpful.”

“What, do you expect me to apologize?”

“Do you expect me to keep driving you around like we're friends?”

“I'm hurt,” he put a dramatic hand on his chest, “I put up with you and your dumb things and you don't consider me a friend?”

“Friends don't give friends cardiac arrest. And _I've_ been having to put up with _you_.”

He grumbled to himself and quickly spat, “Fine, sorry.”

“Hmm?”

He growled and repeated, “I'm sorry for being rightfully bratty. Can we go somewhere cool?”

You glanced at the clock. Thanks to the drive, far too many hours passed, but you still had time to make it to the next spot before it got too dark.

“Yeah, just gonna be a few more hours.”

“Lame.”

 

Even Bill had gotten sick of replaying the same songs at some point, and settled on putting in a bootleg disc with incomprehensible marker on top.

The first few notes of the song made you instantly realize your relative left their Marvin Gaye CD, and it was even worse that Let's Get It On was easily one of the most cheesily romantic songs in the universe.

Your face burned and you stiffened your intense focus on the road while Bill cackled maniacally.

“Hoo, man, nice taste in music!” He shot out between bouts of laughter.

Your hand shot off the wheel to shut the music off, but he grabbed your wrist. “What, you don't like this album?” A wide, shit-eating grin bloomed on his face. “'Cause I do, let's keep it on.”

Still refusing to take your eyes off the street, you tugged your arm out of his grip and settled it back on the wheel, clutching so hard your hands were changing colors.

“It's not mine,” you harshly explained.

“Suuure it's not, doll,” he cooed teasingly, “And it's also not running in your music player, in your car.”

You grumbled in response.

“Y'know, this music,” he leaned back into his seat.

“It's really,”

“making me,”

You finally turned to glare daggers into him.

“What? It's making me hungry. Can we eat?”

Turning your flushed face back to the road, you hissed out, “Food in the console.”

“Yeah, but I'm sick of snack food. How 'bout some braciole? Or veal piccata?”

How he knew about that kind of food was beyond you.

“How about cheap, affordable fast food?”

“I'm going to pretend you're joking.”

“I don't exactly have a shitload of cash, you know.”

“So? How about...ooh!” He grabbed the steering wheel and veered the car into a nearby plaza, giving you a panic attack. “Look, a steakhouse!”

Your face blanched and you weakly sputtered, “As long...as you don't...do that...ever...again...”

Somehow, you managed to park the car near the restaurant without your shaky hands giving out on you.

“Two times,” you said barely above a whisper, shutting off the car and staring blankly ahead.

“What?”

“ _Two times_ ,” you repeated, facing him with newfound fury once the shock subsided. “You almost fucking killed me twice now!”

“Not really, there's barely anyone on the road in this spudtropolis.”

You grabbed his ear and pulled his face inches from yours, “I swear to fucking God, if you try something like that one more time, _you'll_ be the one dying.”

Fear only briefly flashed in his eyes before he returned to his default smugness. “I'll definitely try to keep that in mind,” he said with a smirk.

You let go of his ear and stormed out of the vehicle and into the restaurant, Bill quickly following suit.

There wasn't a host to greet you, so you stomped over to the nearest booth, seething.

“Kinda empty, ain't it?” the blonde mused, settling down in across from you. “Guess they don't serve enough potatoes to be popular, huh?”

You let out a small laugh, “Are you seriously still on that?”

“Yes, and I have every reason to be. Are you still going to be a Negative Nancy throughout dinner? 'Cause that would kill the mood.”

“I should be,” you paused, “But...I'm kinda glad to not be eating out of my car for once. Doesn't mean I'm not still mad.”

“Eh, fine by me,” he shrugged, giving a cocky smile.

“Oh, didn't see you two come in,” a young waitress apologized, running up to your table, giving a bit of a long glance at Bill's battered face. “Um, we've been awfully quiet all day, runnin' out of a couple ingredients in the back and all.”

“Don't tell me they're a certain starchy perennial tuber,” The tall man quipped, amused.

“A what-what? I dunno what that is. But we basically can't serve any potato dishes.”

He burst out laughing and slammed his fist on the table, and you were trying to cover your giggles, as well.

“Hah...yeah, okay, um, so, here are some menus,” she said, confused. “Just call me when you're ready—”

“I'll have a med-rare twelve ounce, corn and, eh, macaroni,” he said quickly, hungrier than he seemed.

The waitress quickly wrote it down and looked to you.

“Uh, ditto, I guess. Plus waters and, oh, four of whatever draft you got.”

She looked you over, not wanting to ask for your ID, and wrote it all down, skirting away with an “Alrighty!”

“She probably thinks you did this to me,” Bill snickered. “Bet she's gonna go back and gossip to her coworkers about this domestic abuse.”

“'Domestic abuse' my ass,” you rolled your eyes, “You still haven't told me why that shop owner did that to ya.”

“And I still won't.”

You gave him an impatient look.

“Fine, maybe I will, give or take a few drinks.”

“Oh, no, those are all for me,” you said smugly, “How else am I gonna put up with you for the rest of the night?”

“You know that's even more dangerous than anything I've done to you, right?”

“Where does all this roadside caution come from?” You laughed.

“I just...don't like it when someone drives, is all,” he said somewhat dismissively.

You cracked up, much to his annoyance. “Man, that's rich comin' from you!”

“Ugh, it's because I don't like not having control of something, especially a mobile deathtrap. At least those times I was the one causing it, not your own stupidity.”

Your giggles subsided, it made a good amount of sense. For once. “I was just joking, anyway, I may be dumb enough to take a stranger with me on a car trip, but I'm not that dumb to down more than I can handle and try driving into a national park.”

“National park? God, why not a theme park?”

“Because it's nice, we can see the full moon on a mountain, and I don't have to pay for a hotel to sleep tonight.”

“Full...? Er, wait, are we gonna sleep together?”

The waitress awkwardly cleared her throat from behind you and hesitantly stepped closer to set down the glasses and uncapped bottles. “I'll, uh, go check on your food.”

Bill broke into laughter again with the embarrassed look on your face.

You didn't want to yell at him and cause a scene, so you grabbed a bottle and slugged the entire thing down, warming yourself up inside.

“Geez, I'm just trying to have fun. Lighten up!” He chimed, taking a beer as his own.

“What do you think I'm trying to do?” You said with a smirk, placing down your empty bottle.

Bill rolled his eyes and took a sip of his own. “ _Eugh!_ ”

“You can't tell me you haven't had a drink before, you were just acting like you had!”

“And I have! It's just been...a _long_ time. I don't exactly remember it being this gross.”

“Fine, I'll have it if you won't,” you said, reaching towards it.

“No, nope! I'll have it, I'm not letting you have more than that one!”

You snorted at his cheap valor and the childish faces he made trying to force it all down.

 

Surprisingly, out of sheer will, he managed to down the rest of the drinks throughout the course of the meal, and watching him deteriorate was more than hilarious.

“You know...this stuff _sssucked_. We should—we should dine and dash!” He tried to whisper. “People do that, right?”

“That's,” you actually gave it thought, since there really wasn't staff in the front and you were less than happy to be paying up.

“That's a good idea, actually.”

“See? It totally is! Let'sss go,” he declared, awkwardly stumbling out of his seat and to the door.

You looked around briefly for any employee and bolted right after him, stuffing into your car before you were caught.

This time, Bill needed a bit of help with the buckle, but you quickly snapped it on and headed off triumphantly.

His hand smacked the power button and that damn album came on again. You forgot about that.

“Um, maybe not,” you awkwardly said, trying to shut it off.

“ _Nooo_ ,” the man whined childishly, slumped down in his chair, “I want it ooon.”

You stifled a laugh, “Really? This is how you're gonna be?” The little you had barely affected you, other than a small buzz.

“Yesss! So I get the radio on!”

“Fine,” you sighed, aware you couldn't win this one.

It was at some point after the disc looped around that he started getting handsy, putting his hands all over his face, as if it were something new. “I will never get used to this,” he said somewhat blankly.

You weren't sure what he was referring to, and you frankly didn't want to.

He was then patting his stomach in what was probably the beat of the song, but his timing was extremely off.

You had just seen the sign that announced your arrival to Wyoming when you heard a strange hissing coming from Bill and, to your horror, he was pawing his groin, his head turned to his window.

The car swerved a bit when your hands jolted, and you weren't sure what to do.

Shut off the radio and probably he'd start whining and stare you down with a terribly lust-struck face.

Grab his hand away and he'd probably flip out—especially if you missed.

Say something and...well, what would you even say? 'Dude, stop rubbing one out in my car?'

That would be too awkward.

This whole thing was awkward.

You defeatedly stuck your focus on driving, somewhat suddenly realizing how hot he—your face was.

Many long, excruciating minutes passed before his breathy hisses faded and he fell asleep to the soft rumbling of the car.

With a sigh of relief, you shut the music off, being fine with the simple sound of the hums of the road and a few quiet snores here and there for the next couple of hours.

 

You eventually made it inside the park and drove up to one of the higher campsites. You shut off the car and quietly got out to sit on the hood, staring up at the night sky.

The moon was large and bright, even with the vast fleet of clouds shrouding it.

It was really nice, being surrounded by the humble forest nightlife. It reminded you why you went out on this trip in the first place.

For posterity's sake, you pulled out your phone, taking obligatory photos of the mountains in the distance, the buffalo hiding in the trees, and Bill sitting next to you. ...wait.

“Gah, when did you get out here?”

“Uhm, a while ago,” he said, incredibly groggy, “You were starin' at that moon for a really long time, you know.”

“Probably. I woke up and watched you look up at it for like ten minutes, dunno how long before that.”

“Oh,” you weren't sure how to answer. You must've been too distracted to notice him get out and onto the car. “But it's...nice, isn't it?”

“Very,” he yawned. “Y'know that one song about the moon hitting your eyes?”

“Yeah, _That's Amore?_ ”

“It definitely is,” he chuckled.

“Ex-excuse me?”

“Uh, nothing,” he said, somewhat surprised himself, quietly adding to himself, “Think I've been human too long, what was that?”

You said nothing and quietly looked down to your lap, twiddling your phone between your fingers.

He cleared his throat, “You wanna take a picture together?”

“Ah,” you almost dropped it, “Sure.”

You flipped the camera to capture your faces and tried to put on your best camera smile. He leaned in close and bore his own awkward smile.

The shutter went off a few times and you scrolled through the photos, feeling really happy inside. He was actually right, you could see the moon reflecting off of your eyes.

“Hey, look,” you turned to him and accidentally bumped noses from the proximity. “Er, sorry,” you quickly apologized, though neither of you moved back.

Something about his eyes was pulling you in. They were so bright, almost like they were glowing. Were they glowing? It was hypnotic.

But you quickly snapped out of your trance when he shut his eyes and you realized his lips were on yours.

You should've pushed him away, you should've told him off, you should've slapped him—after all, you only just met!  
But you didn't.

Something about it felt so good, so... _right_. It must've sounded crazy—it was crazy. And it was electric, you felt yourself draw even closer to him, you weren't even sure if you were in control of yourself.

When he suddenly pulled away, you felt oddly empty inside. And his eyes—they _were_ glowing. He darted them up to the bright, enormous, no longer clouded moon.

“Ooh, yesss, finally!”

“Zap!” He snapped and everything froze, color draining from the world.

“Zow!” A flash of light turned him into...a floating, one-eyed triangle.

“Bap!” Several dead hornets appeared in the _thing's_ tiny black hand.

“Pretty neat, huh?”

The silent shock rumbling in your system erupted into a rattling scream.

“Jeez, calm down! You act like you've never met a demon before!”

Your voice shriveled as you crawled yourself backwards, falling off your car and into the dirt.

“ _Wh..._ ”

“Oh, right. Forgot this was some kind of shock to people,” He shrugged, tossing away his gift of hornets. “I'm still Bill. Y'know, this guy,” He somehow said, quickly turning back into the human. “I'm just, y'know, usually a lot less corporeal!” He laughed, zapping back into... _it_.

“I've...you're...demon... _a demon_...”

“Yup, and a classy one at that,” he said, pointing to his tiny bowtie and top hat. “Totally hot, right?” He cackled, leaning on a newly-apparated cane. “Can we still make out?”

You struggled to form any words, but finally found your voice. “N...No! What the fuck are you going messing with me? I didn't do anything!”

“Eh, you were there. And you're very interesting! Cute, too, for a human,” he blinked. Winked? “I just, y'know, figured my powers were gone thanks to _that damn brat with the book,_ ” he barked, briefly turning red.

“Ahem. Just thought it was something to do. You're pretty fun! And then the full moon's up—and that thing's pretty magical, lemme tell ya—so I can do stuff like this again,” he explained, the head of a boar appearing out of nowhere and falling right in front of you.

You shrieked and jumped to your feet. “This...this isn't funny, you know! You're terrible!”

“Sure am, what's your point?” He smugly replied.

You opened your mouth and then shut it, your face burning. “Fine then, I'm glad you're happy,” you croaked, lacing your fingers around your car door and pulling, but it refused to move.

“Can't do that while we're stuck in the mindscape, kid. No power over that other plane of existence you call reality here.”

“I just...I just want to go, okay? Can you let me go?”

“ _Why_ , sweetcheeks? Thought we were getting along so well!”

“Only because I didn't know I was with a manipulative _monster_ ,” you hissed, feeling something well up in your eyes.

“Don't tell me, you were _falling for me?_ ”

You snapped your look to the window. You were glad it wasn't able to show your reflection, you didn't want to see it.

“Oh, you were! How delightful,” he squeaked.

“And...if I was?” You muttered, “What does that matter to you?”

“Hah, uh... What _does_ it matter? Good question. A better question is _why were you?_ ”

“I don't even know! You were a pain in the ass, but a real kick to be around! Half the time my brain was in a battle to slap you or hug you! I've never met someone with some kind of electric energy around them like you, okay?!”

“Hm,” he mused, lowering himself down to the top of the car, staring at you intently. “Let me try something.”

He tapped his little cane on the vehicle, and with a flash, you were back on the hood facing Bill again, him as a human and the world around you back to life.

At first you weren't sure if you just had a hallucination or passed out or _anything but being faced with a demon_ , but without a beat, Bill put his tan hand on your cheek and stared into your eyes again, looking for something. After a few seconds, he pulled back and said, “yeah, okay.”

With that sort-of confirmation, you sent a fierce smack to his face.  
“Woah, what was that for?!”

“For being a goddamn bastard, you should know!”

“I wasn't—” he stopped himself when your hand rose again. “Okay, maybe _I_ was. But not _me_. Does that make sense?”

“It'd better if you don't want my foot up your ass.”

“Er, okay. _I_ has no human limitations such as feelings, pain thresholds, so on. But _me_ does. _Me_ has emotions and attachments, even if _I_ doesn't want to. With me so far?”

“As much as I can be.”

“Right, well, what I'm—uh, _me's_ saying is that _me_ likes you a lot more than _I_ does. Just kinda hard to keep those states apart, especially being an all-powerful, sadistic demon, kinda comes out a lot,” he chuckled.

“...okay, Gollum,” you broke out a smirk. “Why don't you try explaining that some other way?”

He flickered his still-shining eyes around. “Um, does this...?” He brought close and hesitated before pressing his lips against yours.

You exhaled a laugh and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into you, your mouths dancing against each other's.  
After a while of forgetting to breathe, you pulled back and took in some much needed air.

“So you're not mad at me, then?”

“Oh, I'm still furious,” you cooed, “But I'd rather not, that'd kill the mood, wouldn't it?”

He laughed and turned toward the moon. “Don't really think anything could kill this mood, it's so nice out and everything.”

“It really is,” you hummed, sliding yourself tightly against his side, a little hungry for his warmth.

“I'm...guessing you want me to say sorry about being so much trouble, don't you? Because I guess I am. Sorry, that is.”

“What, has that little catharsis changed you so much that the great and mighty Bill Cipher is apologizing without being forced to?”

“ _No_ ,” he snipped, “Just figured being nice would be something you'd like, yeesh.”

“And being concerned about what _I'd_ like! Oh, be still, my heart!”

He sighed, a mix of irritation and embarrassment.

“I'm just kidding,” you patted his thigh, “Taste of your own medicine, they'd say.”

“Well...I'd have you too embarrassed to talk, and I'm still talking, so you're definitely not using the right medicine.”

“Oh? Are you trying to dare me?”

“Am I?”

“You were rubbing your crotch in my car in a drunken stupor.”

“I...” His face turned all sorts of colors, “Was I?”

“Yes. It was pretty funny.”

“So if I did it now, you'd laugh?” He grinned, hoping to turn this around.

“Um, I think if you did it now it'd just be really awkward,” you chuckled.

“So that means I'd win, right?

“When did this become a contest to make the other more uncomfortable?!”

“I dunno, right now?” He said, hovering a hand precariously close to his groin.

“Don't be an idiot,” you scoffed, reaching for his wrist.

And missing.

“Erm.”

He confusedly looked at your hand and then you.

“I—don't read too much into it, I meant to grab your arm!”

“Then,” he snickered, “Why haven't you moved your hand?”

You quickly snapped your hand back into your lap. “I just did, so, there,” you said awkwardly.

He leered into your eyes, and it felt like some kind of judging glare that you were crumbling under.

“Haha! So I _do_ win!” He cheered.

“What—no! That didn't—oh, you're impossible,” you gave up, laughing.

“Yeah, well, kinda my thing.” He held a long pause. “You...wanna do that again?”

“Uh.”

“I mean, your hand's pretty warm, even through clothes. Felt nice, is all,” he shrugged.

“Are you serious?”

“Should I not be?” He said brazenly, wearing a smug grin.

With an oddly confident face, you slipped your hand over his thigh and cupped his groin, rubbing your palm against it.

“ _Mmyeah_ , that's good,” he huffed, his bruised cheek twitched.

Increasing pressure, you watched him turn redder, closing his eyes.

It was cute. Something came over you and you suddenly decided you wanted to see how contorted and lusty his face could get.

Within seconds his pants were undone and you were sliding your hand up the length of his cock.

“You like going commando, huh?” You teased, your voice lower than usual.

He sharply hissed at the soft touch of your fingers, “Muh, maybe, just, ooh, do that!”

“Feh, and to think I was terrified of you just a few minutes ago, and now you're, hah, like this,” you uttered, his sensitivity sickeningly empowering.

“You—you don't know how good this feelsss,” he whimpered.

“I think I do, by that lewd look on your face.”

“Is it...that bad?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, your strokes increasing in speed, “It's actually, ah, pretty hot, you know.”

“Ohh, no,” he whined, “Don't say that...”

“Pfft, why?” you crowed, suddenly realizing he was so weak his peak was already coming, precum slipping down and, with the help of your hand, slicking his cock. “Mm, because you're close to your end?”

“N-no,” he struggled, knitting his brows together, tossing his head back, “Yes! And no. It's just, nnh, I...”

“You're what?” you purred, pumping more intently on the hot, trembling head. “C'mon, big man,” you huffed a laugh.

“ _Aah_ , no, I, _mh_ , I think I, I—oh, no, _ahhh fuck!_ ”

He was gone, his cum bursting out, and the hands he had supported himself with gave out.

His back barely touched the car when the world slipped into monochrome again and, with a spark, he flashed back into...that _thing_ again.

Panic almost instinctively struck your glazed eyes as the demon scratched his eyes and lazily blink before staring at you with his one dark eye.

“Well, hot damn,” his voice echoed, “That was...somethin'.”

“Er, was—” you coughed and cleared your throat, “Was it?”

“Yeah, not too shabby, kid, I like you! Guess I could stick around you for a while if it's gonna be that fun,” he announced, snapping his fingers, a leafy origami swan falling into your hand. “For you, toots. Consider it a token of our friendship. Or, y'know, whatever,” he dismissively shrugged.

“Oh, wow! How cute, thanks.”

“Ain't it? It's made out of poison ivy! Ha!”

You immediately dropped the 'gift'. “Thanks,” you said flatly.

“Yeah, whatever. I can tell when _I'm_ not appreciated,” he quipped, and clapped to bring reality back like it was some light system.  
You blinked and there he was, tucking himself back into his pants, muttering something about clothes.

“Well,” you said awkwardly.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, that's a thing that happens, I guess. Could feel myself slipping off, pretty crazy, I know.”

“Everything about you is crazy, if you haven't noticed.”

“Hey, you could've kicked me out of your car back in Oregon, but you didn't.”

“And I'm still not sure if that was one of my best or worst mistakes,” you laughed.

“As long as you stay on my good side, it was a good one.”

“Who says I'm staying on any of your sides?”

He rolled his eyes and scooted close, putting an arm around you. “Fine, I'll stay by your side, but only to make your life a living hell. Those Gravity Falls brats don't deserve me, anyway.”

“Y'know, Bill,” you laughed, resting your head on his shoulder, “I think I might be okay with that.”

 

As much of a handful he already was proving to be, the whole 'demonic duality' thing was something you could definitely get used to.

Normalcy and stability were pretty bland, anyway. Like...a potato museum.

**Author's Note:**

> ~~god i've slipped in so many secret headcanons of mine i'm sorry~~


End file.
